


just right (just like you)

by cookiethewriter



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: (it's supposed to be anyway), Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 20:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15227259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiethewriter/pseuds/cookiethewriter
Summary: anonymous asked: would love some fluffy ambreigns or romox to cheer me up :) any universe any setting just much cute fluff please :)





	just right (just like you)

**Author's Note:**

> i got this prompt a while ago and had written almost all of it in one go, then had to stop, and i finished it a few days back. hope that anon likes it. c: 
> 
> (ps i'm well aware that fluff is something i have to work on, lol, i hope this is enough?)

Dean can only imagine what everybody must be thinking: how could this happen? To him, of all people?

Never mind the notion that nobody in their right mind would want to marry him. His squeamishness and hesitance to let people in because of a few bad eggs in his life were enough to send people running for the hills. Not to mention, his eccentricities were a bit … much … for people. He talked loud and crude and was hardly the softest person in the world, but the fact that he could find it in his heart and soul to love like he does Roman was kind of unbelievable.

Their story was something very, very special to Dean: they met in a hot training facility in Tampa, the day Dean debuted. He remembered he walked in in a pair of dirty jeans and a tee shirt, hair mussed and gum popping in his mouth. A pair of sunglasses rested over his eyes, mostly for aesthetic than for actual protection, and he saw a number of people before he saw Roman.

Mostly guys that had forgettable faces – guys he was friendly with now, but people who didn’t ultimately illicit any sort of reaction from him – but it wasn’t until he got to Dusty’s office, mostly to let him know he was here, that he was quite _literally_ knocked senseless by a door swinging open and out walked one-half of the Wild Samoans and … Roman.

It would be more romantic to say ‘the wind was knocked out of him because of his beauty’, but it was much more real to point out that he’d heard talking and had gone to lean against the door to wait out the meeting before going on inside. He hadn’t expected to have _literally_ fallen for Roman.

They weren’t on TV a lot together, but they trained together; Dusty had suggested he work with Roman, having a couple years’ short of a decade of experience more, when neither of them were booked, and they did a great deal of talking as much as working.

Then came their only match on the same side, versus Leo Kruger and Damien Sandow.

Then, after their victory, Roman asked Dean out for a drink.

The rest, after that, was pretty much fucking history.

* * *

It was coming up on seven years since they’d met, and two since Dean had fallen for Roman. Since then, it had been them versus the world, and they had ended up victorious. They’d had trials and tribulations like any other person, the biggest one being keeping their personal and professional lives private. Outside of each other, Seth knew, but only because he had walked in on them (Dean used to be much greedier than he was now, and they’d been caught tangled together). Renee knew, being probably the only girl Dean had any relationship with that meant anything to him. Roman told his cousins, and by proxy, Naomi knew.

Only the ones closest to them knew, with the exception of their parents, but this was only because they hadn’t been home very much. Dean wouldn’t be telling his mom, and Roman wanted to wait until they were exclusive to tell his parents.

That only lasted a few months into dating, and it was creeping up on six years now. They were now openly, lovingly, a couple and they couldn’t have been happier.

It certainly made Dean realize that Roman was his Person. And, knowing this, it _also_ made Dean realize that the only thing that made sense at this point was to marry Roman.

That’s where things went, in Dean’s head, wrong.

He remembers dragging Renee with him to about _five_ different jewelry stores, as both moral support and to keep him from buying something that’s not fashionable or ‘tacky’. (His taste wasn’t ‘tacky’, it was ‘eclectic’.) At first, he’d thought about a simple band, then he saw something that was on the other side of the spectrum, flashy and big diamond. Roman was certainly somewhere in the middle, _deserved_ something nicer than a plain band.

It was Renee’s – with Naomi and Jimmy by proxy – suggestion of a band with something engraved on it. He didn’t want Roman to have to take off the ring while wrestling, so a band was the only option at this point, but he didn’t have much that he’d be willing to get engraved in it. No dates, he was bad at dates, and they hadn’t ever said anything meaningful aside from the occasional ‘I love you’. (Roman was more a man of actions than words, where Dean was the opposite sans sweet stuff, so a lot of the time their love showed through the things they did rather than said.)

“ _What about your initials?_ ” Naomi suggested through the phone.

“ _Or ‘loser buys the beers’?_ ” That one made Dean laugh, but it didn’t feel 'them' enough.

“What about something cheesy like Love You Forever or something?” Renee laughed at the face Dean pulled, the grimace, and he came to the conclusion that nothing was going to be right enough for Roman.

…

_Right_ enough.

Of fucking _course_.

* * *

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“Sh! No!”

Roman’s lips pull up in a smile, getting a kick out of Dean’s frustrated response; he had Roman close his eyes when he got back to the house they’d moved into together over a year ago, and was leading him by the hand through the first floor. Considering they were walking for a while, Roman surmised they were headed to the backyard, complete with an outdoor kitchen.

The sound of a sliding door confirms Roman suspicions, and he steps over the track to step out into the warm sunshine.

“How ‘bout now?”

“Just a sec.”

There’s some shuffling, and the sound of a chair being pulled out, and Roman can’t help it. He cracks one eye open, just a little bit, to make sure Dean doesn’t scuff the finished deck. Satisfied, he closes his eyes tight again, pressing his lips together to keep from smiling; he hadn’t seen anything else but the chair, but he can’t help but feel giddy at the idea of a possible surprise. Dean wasn’t romantically spontaneous, but he _was_ spontaneous, so he could open his eyes and see anything when they focused again.

_Please don’t have set the yard on fire, and-or have built something big and gaudy in the remaining space we have_ \-- of course, he can’t help but have these concerns, but he knows Dean enough to reach the conclusion that he couldn’t ever hide something from him like an entire _fucking building_. And he hadn’t set anything on fire in like, a month.

“Okay, baby, sit on the stool-” Roman feels around for the seat and carefully seats himself in the plush seat, waiting until he hears Dean do the same. “-okay, you can open ‘em.”

When Roman’s eyes open, he blinks them a couple of times to get them used to the light, and the first thing he sees is Dean. Well, that certainly wasn’t a terrible thing to see at all. He has this … look … on his face, like he has something to say but he’s actively trying not to just come outright with it. That was odd – Dean could keep secrets fine, but that wasn’t who they were. They kept each other in the know about pretty much everything these days, because hell, they fucking loved each other.

Roman smiles, patient and loving, trying hard not to let the skepticism simmering in his gut affect what's going on.

Dean clears his throat. "It's comin' up on seven years, Rome."

"Wow - no shit, huh." Roman absolutely knew. He kept it in the calender in his phone not because he'd forget, but because he always wanted to remember. "Who'da thought?"

"Yeah, right? 's crazy." The word doesn't make him outwardly cringe anymore, hadn't for a while, but it sometimes makes Roman frown. "And I was thinkin' to myself like, we've checked a lotta things of our mental checklists, right?"

Roman thinks on this: his own checklist had changed over a dozen times in his lifetime, one of the biggest changes to it crossing out 'Football Star' and writing in 'Wrestler'. Now, he's wrestled around the world, had a huge extended family (that weren't already in his long family tree) and met the love of his life. He and Dean had moved into his apartment after almost a year, and a few months later they'd bought this perfect little house, big enough for a normal four-person family to live in. One of the three bedrooms was theirs, of course, while another was a guest room. Roman's parents, Seth, whoever needed a place to crash often used that room, though Dean had made sure to tell everything that Hotel Reigns-Ambrose was _closed_ tonight.

"Right. ...Dean, you feeling okay, babe?"

At about the 5-year mark of knowing Dean, everything had stopped being unpredictable. Roman knew when Dean was thinking of something upsetting, hilarious, dirty or something for dinner. Every lilt to his tone, twitch, funny breath or anything else he'd long-since memorized like it was his favorite song, and Dean his favorite composer. He knew when Dean wanted comfort and attention, and when he needed his space, and more importantly, when he needed his boyfriend or his best friend.

Applying all of this knowledge to right this very minute ... Roman doesn't have any _fucking_ clue what's going on in Dean's head. For the first time in a while, he's not sure what he's expecting.

Dean doesn't look upset, and he's not nervous. He says the next part with only the _tiniest_ hitch in his breath, "There's just one thing on mine I gotta take care of," and Roman recognizes it as the final warning before he starts crying. Clearing his throat, Dean breaks eye-contact - during one of the most crucial moments when eye-contact would have been real _fucking_ great, Ambrose, seriously? - and fidgets his way into his jeans pocket from a sitting position. He has to stand, eventually, to get into it, but when he does, he almost slams it into Roman's chest.

It's a small paper bag with no label on it. Immediately, Roman looks down at it, back at Dean, then reaches a hand into it. "This isn't gonna kill me, right?"

"If I was gonna kill you, it would'a been during our first Shield run. Just fuckin' open it already."

A brand new smile crosses Roman's face but he complies, fingers clasping against something rounded with ridges. Pulling it out ... he opens his mouth to say something, probably stupid, before Dean cuts him off.

"There ain't no pussyfooting around this. You're it for me, Roman Reigns. Always were - for the longest time, I thought I was okay with what we got, just bein' us and doin' what we want, but the more I thought about it, I figured ... well, this isn't so much the next step as it is the right one."

Roman looks at Dean, who looks still and calm, whereas Roman's heart is beating a thousand miles a minute and he can hardly breathe and his eyes are watering as he pushes the little box with his thumb and stares. Stares at the perfect band, runs the fingers of his other hand over the smooth finish. Sniffling, he takes it out of the little velvet sleeves and sets the box back into the bag, pushing it onto the counter of the outdoor kitchen and starting to push it immediately onto his ring finger because yes, _fuck_ yes, he wants this, with Dean, but Dean plucks it out of his fingers.

"Roman Joseph Reigns ... Big Dog, _The_ Guy, The Merchandise--"

"Shut the fuck up," yeah, he's crying now, but he's also laughing, because Dean is so fucking ridiculous.

"--will you ... _fuck_ , just fuckin' marry me already!"

Roman slides off the stool and wraps his arms completely around Dean's torso, trapping his arms, and kisses him square on the lips. There's a new depth to this kiss, a new depth to their _love_ and Dean tilts his head to give himself some sort of role here, making sure they could still breathe as they kiss. Dean eventually gets his arms unpinned to his sides and wraps them around Roman's waist as Roman loosens his hold and holds onto Dean's face like he's a precious treasure. When they pull apart, Dean starts to slide the band onto his finger, when Roman stops him.

"Does it ... there's something engraved."

"Oh," Dean says, like he'd forgotten, and Roman chuckles to himself. "Yeah. Yours says 'Right'."

"What does yours say?"

"'Just'."

Roman looks at him, kind of beside himself.

"They're 'just right', eh?"

At that, Roman grabs at Dean's face, kissing him short and sweet.

"Just like you."


End file.
